Excuse me maam: garden party edition

July 17, 2013

You might not know this about me, but I get called Ma’am or Miss a lot.

Like on the people yelling “Beam me up, Scotty” at William Shatner level. Okay, maybe it isn’t quite on that level but enough to stand out and enough to deserve its own segment here. Back when I had long hair and painted my nails, at least it sorta made sense. Only a little though because, hello, full beard. Half of these “mistakes” would happen while the person was looking at my face or at least the side.

And that’s why:

excuse me miss

It had been a while since this happened last. Where was the crime committed? In my very own backyard. I’ll set the scene.

Daytime.
In our backyard.
The neighbors had some people working on their landscaping.

I was minding my own business and taking some trash out to the garage. As I did this, I turned toward their yard and made eye contact with two (TWO!) of the workers. We held the gaze for probably too long, and I nodded at them before going on my way. I continued on my way and as I entered (bow chikka bow wow…sorry) the garage I hear:

“Ma’am?”

(Silence)

“Miss?”

(That’s weird why don’t they know Chris’s name if they work for her. I’m trying to clean up the garage a bit.)

“Hey MA’AM!”

(Are they calling me? Nooo, they couldn’t be.)

“Ma’am?”

(Could they?)

“Hello…Ma’am?”

(I stick my head out of the garage.)

“Oh…OH! Sorry…”

They then asked if they could take some of the trees from her yard out through ours. I say yes, and of course later find they stomped some of our plants.

Advertisements

Excuse me maam: Game time

November 1, 2010

First go check out the latest Monday’s Maniac over at The B Movie Brigade.

Photobucket

Yep. I get called “miss”, “maam” or “her/she” so often that I’ve turned it into a reoccurring segment here. Hooray for easy peasy posts to bore you with. Because if jimi is one thing she’s lazy

Damn. I mean he. Crap. Moving on.

The Cheap Seats is littered with posts about being called a girl. Sift through em if you like.
No? Yeah I feel ya, I was too lazy to get em for you too. Oh well. Hooray lazy. What was the point of this again? I mean other than me wanting to make a stick figure have my head on it.

(Horribly done by the way) Oh there he goes with the parenthesis again. What are those suppose to be an aside or something?

Notice the prominent beard?

Don’t worry nobody else does either. The Rizza, the pole smoker and yours truly had just walked into the crowded lobby area of the Q. She (The Rizza) went off to the “you have a purse so need to be checked out line. We being men went to the quick lanes.

A side note: The Q (Quicken Loans Arena—where the Cavs, Monsters and Gladiators play) and its staff appear to enjoy holding me up. Almost every single time (or actually whenever I attend with the Rizza) they’ve found another reason to slow me down. The pens in my pocket, my belt buckle, a notebook and etc etc.

This night was no different. In terms of holding us up I mean. I walked self assuredly (but with a manly brisk walk!) to the ticket scanner.

“Good evening my dear.” Ticket in one hand pointed at the scanner and keys in my other hand for the security to see as I pass through the detector. I left all pens and belt buckles at home. Success!

Scan.
Blrrrrrp.
Scan.
Blrrrp.
“Hmm.” She pulls the ticket into her hand. Scan.
Blrrrrp.
Scan some more.

“I knew I should have brought my personal ticket scanner.” Flash my hairy smile. Her face does not brighten however. “Damnit Jimi did you flash the grimace again instead of the smile?” I thought as she pointed over to the side.

“I’m going to need you to stand off to the side over there sir.” And then she was already on to the next customer.

Soon a squirrely looking guy walked over to her and she talked to him and pointed over at me. “Could you see him please sir.”

“For you anything.” I walked over. He smiled. I smiled (perhaps grimaced?) and the dance began. He took the ticket. He used his big boss ticket scanning scanner and of course our old buddy

Blrrrrp.

Yeah, so he looked at the ticket some more. He scanned it again. Nothing but blrrrp. He looked up into my face and presumably my hypnotizing dark brown eyes. He chuckled.

“HMMM.” A stronger version of their go to answer. He read the ticket and then ripped the bottom part of and handed it back to me.

“Well okay that was fun.”

He looked up at me from the scanner and then tapped “Florence” which is probably not her name but I don’t really care.

“Okay you can go on and let her through now. She’s good to go.”

I tugged my beard once. I tugged a second time. He stood there. She stood there. “Well thank you Flo.” I said as I passed through her line one last time.


%d bloggers like this: